Am I My Brother's Keeper?

[Intro: Method Man] Eh yo, eh yo, eh yo Yo, yo, yo My son want his back, fuck that (my shine is beautiful) It's time right now, you know? It's like we ain't fuckin with no lame ass niggas no more Bein bullshit by bullshit niggas (for real) [Method Man] Am I my brother's keeper? Theres no need to ask, I'm the creeper Million dollar man, Johnny Cash Puff the reefer, sometimes mix it with the hash Hard to keep up, 100 yards dash, beat your feet up Jumpin Jack Flash on a muthafuckas ass Caught 'em in the weed stash tryin to tap the bag Now he suspect, read him his rights, it's only right I never, never, never in my long-legged life Ever bite like shark niggas, got an appetite For destruction, lusting for dough, it's disgusting Disgraceful, end of disscusion, this tasteful Like cyanide erase you, pull up, let me take two Come all you faithful, Meth and Shyheim Tommy Hilfiger, that I'm a Johnny 'field nigga Till I die, S.I.N.Y. testify Girlfriend sweating my game, killing my high [Shyheim] I'm a 100 proof, like Smirnoff blue label I'm so wild, got housearrest bracelets on each ankle I break you, something fatal and make New Jersey trade you You don't got game, so niggas don't playa-hate you Come back to Brooklyn, the ya G's gone Chase you up, batted in dun, dun Nike won't endorse you so you rock an And-1 I pull out the M-1 and hit you handsome Cuz you forcin it, you can hang it up like an ornament End your actin career, put you back in street tournaments Run for your life, like you doing suicides When even use your scrub ass, Live '9-9 [Chorus 2X: Shyheim] Am I my brother's keeper? There's no need to ask I ride for my brothers, give me the gun and the mask We be in the bushes like The Down Low stash Pop up like a warrant, let off on that ass [Infamous Bluesteele] Yo.. Y'all could catch the player Inf' way beyond calm Sharp and on bomb chron, rockin my Sean John Copin the bomb chron from Sharon on the quan Got me chinky-eyed like a Hong Kong don Fire arm palm, cock back caution Alarm for the chumps, boy what you think you gon' palm with my charms Better pay attention to the harm in my palm and it's fully-loaded If I said it, could he hold it? But once he seen the gun I said, "son, look he bolted" Son, look he noted, the Berrettas'll shever, but he was clever He stopped screwing and he blew in his vendettas His crew was in to leathers, Avirex and guns Some of them was smart but I could say the rest was dumb So I played the vest for dumb and saved the checks for dumb Cuz they hard-head niggas who graze and steadily come To be leakin something, you could care for speakin Frontin bout shit they stick, instead of zip they lip They was young niggas, you know the young dumb niggas Who don't care how they get it as it come, nigga *fades* [sample] *old school party music playing and fades* Hey, hey... Are you that little guy makin all that big noise? *sounds of mad ass dog and man screaming*